


Let Bygones Be Bygones

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post En Ami/Chimera smut.  Mulder's still just a wee bit mad about Scully running off and Scully's just angry that he can't let it go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Bygones Be Bygones

“They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise

 

 

Scully sat in the chair in front of Mulder’s desk, staring at him. He ignored her, just as he’d been ignoring her for weeks. At first she felt meek, and then chagrined, and finally, she was angered by it. The bogus stakeout that he’d left her on was the last straw for her. Before she came into work, she’d resolved to talk to Mulder about the elephant in the room once and for all so they could get past it.

 

“Mulder,” Scully said, watching him sharpen what must have been the fifteenth pencil that morning. He had a whole, industrial-sized box he seemed determined to get through before lunch.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I’d like to know if you plan to stop punishing me any time soon.”

 

“What’s today?”

 

“Thursday.”

 

“Got any super secret, highly dangerous and completely stupid jaunts lined up with anyone this weekend?”

 

“Is that why you stuck me into that stakeout? So you could keep me in one place?”

 

“I thought you might want a nice little relaxing surveillance task after your adventure,” he answered, sharpening another pencil.

 

“Dammit, Mulder.”

 

“It wasn’t relaxing?”

 

Scully pressed her lips together, tampering down the urge to yell at him. Her nostrils flared with the effort and she felt her brow creep up on its own accord. “No,” she said, quietly. “It was not relaxing.”

 

Mulder pushed his pencils into a line, starting at the side of the blotter, moving in. Scully had the urge to flip it up and send the pencils flying into his face, but she pushed through, keeping her calm.

 

“I’m at a loss,” Scully said. “If you can’t understand that I felt that I did what I had to do and if you can look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t have done the same, then we have reached a crossroads. I don’t know what else to do, but I do know that this has to stop. Your silence and your sarcasm and the punishment have to stop. You left me in a cold, dirty, grimy warehouse, infested with God only knows what, afraid to step anywhere lest I fall through a hole in the floor, so much so that I stubbed my toe twice and thought it was broken, all for what, Mulder? To prove to you that I can obey when you tell me to sit and to stay? I can’t apologize for something I felt, something I _feel_ was the right thing to do, but I am sorry we are where we are. I’m sorry you feel about me the way that you do.”

 

The springs in Mulder’s chair squeaked as he leaned back and put his hands behind his head. “How is it that you think I feel about you?” he asked.

 

“I wouldn’t want to wager a guess.”

 

“Try.”

 

Scully shook her head and sighed. The fight went out of her and she looked down at her hands. Mulder moved around from his desk and came to his knees in front of her chair. She turned her head away from him when he sat back on his heels, but snapped back when she felt his hands at the back of her leg, lifting her foot onto his lap.

 

“What are you doing?” Scully asked, sharply.

 

“Was it this one?” Mulder asked, slipping her ridiculous pump off her foot and letting it drop onto the floor.

 

Scully tensed, sitting up straight in her chair. Mulder’s thumbs manipulated the flesh of her instep, moving higher in miniscule increments towards her toes. She tried to pull her foot from him, but he tugged back, staring at her. After no further struggle from her, he gave her big toe a light squeeze, index finger passing over the top of the knuckle while his thumb dug into the underside of the joint.

 

“Was it this one?” Mulder asked again.

 

Scully shook her head, even though she knew she should have lied and said yes. Gently, Mulder moved her leg down and made sure her stocking-clad heel came to rest on the ground before he took her other foot into his lap and repeated the slow removal of her shoe and the gentle massage up to her toes.

 

“What are you doing?” Scully asked, quieter this time.

 

Mulder suddenly moved up to his knees, still holding her foot. Her knee bent slightly and her toes curled reflexively as her heel hit Mulder’s chest. One push with her foot and she could send him backwards into the desk, but her heart beat too wildly in her chest to think of anything other than controlling her breathing as she stared at him in shock. He stared back with an even gaze, and then, just as he had done before, he hooked the back of her knee and eased her leg back down so that her toes touched the floor. The chair creaked as she shifted and inched away from him.

 

Mulder leaned closer, his body forcing the space between her knees to widen a little to accommodate for the intrusion. With his eyes on hers he slipped his fingers under the hem of her skirt, sliding it higher with deliberate slowness. The moment his fingers passed the lace trim of her thigh-highs and grazed skin, he paused.

 

There was no doubt in Scully’s mind that Mulder could hear her heart slamming against her chest. She could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest in her peripheral vision, even with her eyes locked with his. Blood pounded through her veins and she felt it everywhere; in her ears, under her ribs, between her thighs.

 

Ever so softly, and ever so slowly, Mulder traced the lace edge of her stockings with his thumbs, back and forth, from the tops of her thighs to the inside. He passed over the clips of the garters holding everything in place, flicking them with his thumbnails. She knew she should stop him, but at the same time, she didn’t want to.  Whatever was happening was terrifying, but it was not unwanted.

 

Mulder leaned even closer as his hands disappeared under her skirt and reached around to cup her backside. Scully found herself licking her lips in anticipation as his mouth neared hers, but then gasped softly when she suddenly found herself being pulled forward off the chair and into his lap as he sat back on his heels. Just as quickly and fluidly, before she had a moment to become acclimated to the fact that she was straddling Mulder’s lap, he had knocked the chair out of the way and laid her down on the floor. She grasped the lapels of his jacket, holding on to him even though he had her wrapped so tightly in his arms, she didn’t feel the ground under her back, only the muscles in his arms and his hand cupping the back of her head.

 

It seemed that Mulder’s first goal was to make Scully as comfortable as she possibly could be while lying on the basement floor. He managed to slide down between her parted thighs until he could rest his weight on one hip and then pulled one arm from under her to run his hand over the back of her thigh and hook her leg over his hip, angling her body into him.

 

They were nose to nose, breathing the same heated air. Mulder tilted his head a fraction and puckered his mouth slightly, barely kissing the plumpest spot of Scully’s upper lip. She strained just a little to follow the retreat of his mouth, but was immediately distracted by the touch of his fingertips at the edge of her panties. She moaned quietly and twisted his lapel that was still tightly clutching in her fist. Her hips lifted of their own volition, asking for more.

 

Mulder’s fingers danced over satin and lace, spreading fire where he went. She quickly learned that his touch was more exploratory and less purposeful. He seemed to be memorizing the map of her, inside and out, casually tracing the shape of her, boldly crossing that satin barrier to glide through the pool of desire between her lips. He watched her face the whole time, but she could hardly keep her eyes open. It was by far the most erotic and sensual experience she’d ever had. She felt so swollen with need that it weakened her muscles and her head rolled against him.

 

“Mulder,” she whispered, her voice lost against the side of his neck. She had nothing else she could say.

 

It was then that Mulder kissed her for the first time, deeply and thoroughly. She heard herself whimper into his mouth and her eyes drooped completely shut. The play of his tongue at her lips awakened something in her and it dawned on her that she was passively allowing him to take over her body, but she hadn’t even touched him yet. That had to change.

 

Emboldened, Scully let go of his lapel and eased her hand down through the space between their bodies until she found the buckle on his belt. She fumbled to undo the buckle, blind and one-handed, fingers slippery. He was completely aware of her terrible aim, but didn’t care to stop and help.

 

Just when Scully had succeeded in freeing the buckle on his belt, Mulder decided to put a little more ambition into his touch.   He pressed harder, he probed further, he curled his fingers at just the right angle that made her toes curl right along with it and she wrenched her mouth free from his with a soft groan, unable to breathe, let alone command her hands to manage the task of undressing her partner.

 

“Yes,” Scully whimpered. “Mulder, I…” A tremor ran through her body and the words got stuck in her throat. Mulder’s mouth covered hers again as she slackened in his arms. When he pulled his head away from her, they were both breathing hard and she realized that he was still curled inside her body like he was unwilling to leave. It exhilarated her somehow, like an electric current ran through him and into her. She wanted all of him and she wanted it now.

 

Frantically, Scully went to work on Mulder’s pants. She managed to undo the top button and part the zipper with little effort, but she never even got to touch him. Suddenly, she found herself being lifted, Mulder’s forearm bracing her backside, and then she was on his desk and she could feel the papery cushion of a thin stack of files beneath her. She heard a clank and a crunch of glass, which she assumed was the demise of the desk lamp. Another soft crack when the stapler hit the floor and a heavy thud when the file tray dropped. There was chaos, and then Mulder was in her and she was around him and then there was stillness all she could think about was how much more of it she wanted.

 

One by one, the sharpened pencils near Scully’s head rolled off the edge of the desk and fell to the floor with a soft tap. The metal legs of the desk creaked and scraped quietly against the concrete in time with her soft panting.   Time slowed and stopped and sped up and became irrelevant. One moment she felt as though she was on the verge of spontaneously combusting and then she was flooded with chills and euphoria. She was overwhelmed with release to the point of tears that rolled down her temples in hot waves and mingled with the sweat in her hair.

 

It was a long time before Mulder pulled away from her and Scully reluctantly let him go, struggling for purchase as her legs dangled over the desk when not wrapped around Mulder’s waist. She eased up on her elbows and slid back until she was propped up with her hands behind her. She moved with difficulty. Her body trembled and her thighs quivered erratically.

 

Mulder had turned just slightly away from Scully, adjusting his pants. She thought about how she must look at that moment. Her knees were still open to him and her skirt was riding high on her thighs. The silk blouse that had been carefully pressed and tucked into her skirt was rumpled and pulled half-way out of place. Her hair was probably a mess. Her make-up was probably worse. She didn’t care. She wanted Mulder to turn back around and see what he’d done to her.

 

Mulder did turn around and just as Scully pushed herself to sit up straight, he stepped back into the space he’d just left and their arms came around each other. She listened to his heartbeat against her ear, quick and steady and strong. She felt him moving against her, the muscles in his right arm flexing and tightening against her waist and then he reached back for her hand, pressing a scrap of paper into it before he hugged her tighter, hunching slightly so that his face was hidden against her neck.

 

Scully plucked away a Post-It that was stuck to her sweaty palm and raised her arm to read over Mulder’s shoulder. _I’m afraid of how much I love you._ One short line and Scully felt a whole world open up for them. She bit her lip and brought both arms around Mulder’s neck so that they were both hidden into each other. Little by little, he relaxed and she felt behind her on the desk for the pad of paper that he must have used. She slid it closer to herself with her wrist and held it down at an awkward angle with the side of her hand as she wrote. The pen fell back to the desk when she was done and she pushed on Mulder’s shoulder, affixing her note to his jacket.

 

_I need you._

 

Scully slipped off the desk as Mulder pulled her note from his shoulder. Her knees shook as her feet hit the ground. She wobbled like a drunk, finding it difficult to bend down to retrieve her shoes. Using the desk for support, and her back to Mulder, she slipped the first pump on and then the other. She jumped slightly when his hand came around her waist and he held her against him.

 

“Just one more thing, Scully,” he said, sliding the Post-It pad across the desk and directing her attention to it.

 

_Your place or mine?_

 

Scully took up the pen and wrote her answer below. _Yours. 7pm._

 

The End


End file.
